Arthur Christmas 2: Unveiled
by Oddwriter
Summary: It's been 2 years since that fateful night, when a child was nearly missed and the world confused Santa's Sleigh with an UFO. Christmas has run rather smoothly since then (excluding that incident with a penguin), and Arthur finally finds the time to read his letters in relative peace. Or he would, if one of the letters wasn't oddly addressed for "Margaret Claus."
1. Letter to Margaret Claus

December 26th, 2013

My dearest Margaret,

How I wish this letter was written with a happier purpose rather than confession and warning. If only I could tell you face to face, how much easier this would be. That is not an option though, so I must confess from a distance, for now more than ever you must be aware of the dangers. When we were in the North, with Malcolm and such, I wrote everything. Hate me for what you will, but know the truth. All the details available to us, the location of the exits, the magic, I wrote in that journal Malcolm gifted to me since all my other journals were either burned or drowned, everything we knew. When we got back to England, I kept it away from public eye, and made sure nobody knew. For years, I kept it hidden, away from the eyes that would seek to exploit such magic, and for a while I succeeded. But then they came.

Their name is unknown, but their intent is dark, and for years they gave chase to take the journal, until I lost them in Canada. That was 16 years ago. Now though, they've come back, and though they have changed, their intent is the same. After the UFO incident (I'd ask if the situation was less weighty), a renewed energy brought them to my door, demanding the journal. Luckily, they could not find it, but they stayed, following me everywhere. Were this letter not hidden in that of my great-granddaughter's, no doubt they would've intercepted it.

Time is short, so I'll keep this quick. As you read this, my last two of kin, the last survivors of the organization's harassment, travel with journal in hand northward to you. According to my calculations, they'll be within a 3 week straight drive of the North upon your receiving this letter. The elder, Helen, has lived a life of fear under the organization, and can tell you everything I have and more as soon as they arrive. Her daughter, Gabriela, is young, but holds great knowledge on the journal as well. Both will be vital to keeping the secret of the North. I know not if by now they've changed phones or lost them all together to keep in the shadows, but in case they don't, remember the code: DAF-IGB-CDHI. It seems jumbled, but remember our old games, and you'll understand.

They're coming. Do not attempt to contact me, it's not worth it. Stay safe, stay hidden.

I pray you may someday forgive me.

Sincerely,

James Greenlock


	2. Of letters and friends

Date: January 15th, 2014  
>Time: 19:00<br>Location: Dinner room, Claus Residence, North Pole

"Sing 'Jingle Bells' backwards."

BEEP "Hgiels nepo esroh eno a ni edir ot si ti nuf tahw ho, yaw eht lla elgnij, slleb elgnij, slleb elgnij! Ha ha, you're going to have to up your game sonny-boy if you want to beat me!"

Steve Claus didn't even bother to roll his eyes as Grandsanta laughed loudly at Malcolm's misery over having lost yet another point to his father. Honestly, if his mother hadn't given him the look of 'do-it-or-else' the Executive COO would be back on track to planning out this year's Christmas. There was enough to do as is, with the paperwork, the upgrades, the trainings- why waste time on a board game when there were far more pressing matters at hand?

CRASH  
>"Mum, Mum! You won't believe this!"<p>

Like what troublesome discord Arthur was instigating this time.

"Arthur, it's the North Pole! Close the door!" Every single time-! Was he unaware of the breeze that came in when the doors were left open? Even Grandsanta remembered to close them, and the man was on his 140th year of life!

"Oh! Uh, sorry!" With the door closed, the excitable Santa slid over (those shoes were a hazard) to his mother, a look of curiousity all over his face and a green envelope in hand. "You won't believe this!"

"You've said that, dear. What are you talking about?" Words had hardly fallen out of her mouth when Arthur had brought the letter up to face level.

"I was-There was- A letter came in just now, just as I was filing away last year's! Isn't that amazing? The first letter of the year!"  
>"Oh, how exciting dear-"<p>

"It's for you! 'To Mrs. Margaret Claus.' Isn't that exciting?" Hm, odd. It wasn't that letters to Mrs. Claus were unheard of, far from it. Last year alone roughly 7,000 letters had been directed to her, all of which she managed to answer between political talks with Greenland, fighting off polar bears and keeping the peace in the Northpole for both the Claus family AND the elves. Rather, the oddity of how specific the letter was. Few were the people that actually knew the name of any of the Clauses, at least outside of the North Pole, so for a letter to be so oddly accurate in regards to name was rather...strange. Though then again, children that wrote to did sometimes attempt to address her with her first name, with none of their guesses ever having truly succeeded. First time for.

"Come on, open it! Ooooh it's so exciting that the first letter came in so early!" Margaret laughed softly at her youngest son's bounciness. Endless energy seemed to flow out of him with ease, as if all the Christmas spirit of the family was trapped in one body and demanded to be let out.

With a small rip, the green envelope in her hand opened and revealed a small white letter and... a photograph? Picking it up gingerly, a smile blossomed on her face at the sight.

"Why, it's James and his family! Malcolm, come quick, look at how much he's changed!" Almost immediately both Claus brothers perked up (if actually taking one's eyes of the screen of a H.O.H.O counts as perking up) at. James Greenlock, the only human outside of the Clauses who knew about their existence, all because he had been present when their parents had first met (what a doozy of a story that was).

Dr. Margaret Kalleger, esteemed biologist in London, and her assistant Dr. James Greenlock, had ventured to the North Pole to study reindeer migration patterns. After finding and following a lone reindeer traveling on its own, they seperated from the rest of the exploration team and came across the hidden away Christmas Base, giving the elves and the Clauses a heart attack and nearly spilling the beans on the entire operation. With the help of Eve Claus to negotiate with Margaret though (James had fainted from the shock of finding elves), both biologists swore never to reveal the location or information of the Clauses, and were granted permission to continue their observations of reindeer. Malcolm became friends with both of them, and over the course of 6 months, fell in love with the female genius. When it came time for James and Margaret to head back to England, Margaret decided to stay, and James left, becoming the only person outside of the North Pole who knew its true location. Supposedly, the two friends had fallen out of contact over the years due to Margaret's many responsibilities and Jame's work, with not so much as a letter for decades!

How odd that he would contact now... Perhaps a moment of nostalgia had overtaken him.

Malcolm lumbered over from his game, keeping his eyes on the board though. Ever since he and Grandsanta had started this rivalry over the board game, the two were constantly attempting to one up each other in the game. If Grandsanta turned his back, Malcolm would move a space ahead; if Malcolm so much as got distracted Grandsanta would switch the dice, a truly never ending rivalry over a simple board game.

How two grown men could ever get so competitive over papercards and little metalic figurines was astounding.

"Oh my, it is James! Though, I can't say he's aged well. Man looks like a toothpick."  
>"Ha! That boy was always a toothpick, practically broke in half at the breeze!" Guffaws and coughs over took the oldest Claus as his outburst backfired on him, landing him back in his seat in front of the game. The game no one was paying attention to...hm...<p>

"Well, let's see what caused him to write to us... I hope he's doing well!" With that, placed the photo on the table and proceeded to unfold the letter, letting Aruther and Steve finally see this legendary James.

A child, a woman, and a man in a wheelchair were present, all in front of thousands of beds of flowers posing for a picture.

The child, a tiny girl in a small yellow dress, no older than 5, maybe 6 years old, was on the lap of the man, looking excitedly with wide green eyes at the camera with a wide grin that reached ear to ear. Frizzy black-brown hair was parted down the middle, pigtails sticking out at the sides as her hands clutched eachother in her lap, supressing their need to move around and her giddiness. Perhaps it was the cheery color of the dress or the blindingly white toothy smile, but the child seemed to be made of sheer, bouncy energy, more eager to play than to sit pretty for a photograph.

Behind her and the wheelchair, a short, pear shaped, rather heavy woman had her hands on the handlebars, dark eyes looking through silver-rimmed glasses in a soft smile. Dark brown skin glowed in the light, framed by a couple of loose black curls and the occasional grey strand that had escaped the braid that went down her left shoulder. A certain elegance surrounded her larger figure, as her clothes were simple and humble yet flattering, to a degree. If the few grey hairs were any indicator, the woman was most likely the child's mother and the man's daughter.

Which brought up the last figure, the man's. Perhaps in the past he had been strong, tall, or possibly even imposing; whatever the past case may have been, all that was left was skin and bones, a mere whisp of the past. A kindly face grinned, wrinkles appearing around dark eyes crinkled in even darker skin, a mere tuft of white hair resting at the center of his head spiraling upwards. Thin, frail, yet still gentle. A pair of hands on his granddaughter (at least, that's what Steve assumed she was to him), keeping her still for the photo. Even in his old age, there was intelligence twinkling in his eyes, almost as if a simple gaze could pierce even the most hidden secret.

It was him. James Greenlock.

"Oh dear..." Soft whispers in an alarmed tone brought Steve's attention (and Arthur's delayed response) to their mother, who had sat down, worry furrowing on her brow. Before any of the other could ask whatever had brought her sadness, Margaret looked up, a fair bit of fear on her.

"They know."


End file.
